Glad Tidings
by Apollo888
Summary: Set during winter 1920, Mary and Matthew enjoy another holiday season at Eryholme and Downton Abbey, and journey to London for festivities there. Written for the 2016 MM Secret Santa exchange. A sequel to Let's Be Strong.


**Author's Note:** This is my _2016 Mary and Matthew Secret Santa_ gift for  rebeccathehistorian. Do check her out on tumblr. Many thanks to Klarinette49 and alliluna for organizing this year's event. Merci!

This story is set in my _Let's Be Strong_ AU, during the holidays of 1920. If you who haven't read that story, please do. For the purposes of this one-shot, what is truly important to know as far as divergence from canon is that Mary and Matthew came to their senses during the War, ended their respective engagements to Lavinia and Sir Richard, and married each other shortly afterward. They now live at Eryholme with their infant son George, and a few familiar servants who moved with them. Regarding other canon characters, Edith married Sir Alexander Lewis, Matthew's best friend, former boss and commanding officer near the end of 1920. They live in London. Sybil is now working with rehabilitating soldiers back into society and continuing to sort out her feelings for Tom and what she may want out of life.

Happy holidays to all my readers and my best wishes for all of you in 2017. May it be the next in a series of best years for everyone.

 **Glad Tidings**

 **Eryholme, Yorkshire, England, November 17, 1920**

Carson grunted as he walked along the gravel path. It was probably closer to a grumble than a grunt, but the precise characterization of the noise he made wasn't important. The other servants around him – Bates, Anna, William and Daisy – all knew he was perturbed, and so they smiled knowingly and kept on walking.

It wasn't that Carson was angry, necessarily, but he was most certainly bothered. Since he had moved to Eryholme last year to assume the management of Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley's home, he had to adapt to a great deal of change – the renovations that Mr. Crawley made to the Earl of Grantham's former hunting retreat included showers in all the bathrooms, new appliances in the kitchen and telephones on all the floors. Lady Mary's decorating had added a sensible and refined touch to the place, but compared to Downton Abbey, and even Grantham House in London, the home was a modern behemoth to him. But adapt he had, out of respect for his master, and out of love for his mistress, and the home ran smoothly and efficiently, even with the smaller staff that Mr. Crawley brought north with him.

This new 'tradition' though, was an abomination. Three times a week, Mr. Crawley insisted that the house go walking together. Lady Mary didn't join them, nor did Master George, but every morning before breakfast, Mr. Crawley met all of the servants in the foyer and they would go out walking together. The route was usually a circuitous tour of the grounds, and generally took them no more than half an hour, but to the butler, it was the most difficult change to swallow. Walking side-by-side with the master of the house was unheard of to begin with, but for all of the servants to band together like this, to talk and make jokes and even laugh together! Well! It was a sign that the world was changing far too much for his liking.

"All right there, Mr. Carson?" William called, squeezing Daisy's hand knowingly. "Just another mile or so to go until we get back home."

"Mind your own progress, Mr. Mason, and I'll mind mine, thank you," the old butler grunted, though his authoritative voice ended up sounding more like a wheeze as he trudged along.

Anna smirked at her husband, keeping her head facing forward as they went along. They were quite the sight – she and Daisy both nearly two months with child now, her Mr. Bates walking slowly but surely with the help of his cane, and poor Mr. Carson trying to stand as tall and proud as he could while bringing up the rear of the group. All of them followed the dashing, blond-haired man up ahead, strolling along without a care in the world as he talked with Mrs. Hart, the head housekeeper.

"Mr. Carson, don't be so upset. Going out for a walk with Mr. Crawley in the mornings does us all good," Bates chimed in. "And if you must know, the last time we were at Downton, Mrs. Hughes told Anna that you were looking rather trim."

"John!" Anna scolded him, slapping his arm, though her smile, unseen by Carson, betrayed her.

"Pardon?" Carson asked in surprise.

"Oh, don't mind us, Mr. Carson," Anna said, playing her role perfectly. "It was just some talk amongst the women. I don't believe that you were meant to know."

Daisy and William had to cover their mouths to stop themselves from laughing.

"Carson!" Matthew called from the front of the procession. "All right, there?"

"Yes, sir!" Carson answered.

They all had to stifle their giggles as Carson strode forward briskly, passing all of them and joining Matthew at the head of the pack.

"Lovely day, isn't it, sir?" Carson declared. "Just lovely."

* * *

When they finally arrived home, Matthew bid all of them a good day and headed upstairs to wake his wife. Carson stood by and watched as the servants all removed their coats and boots and headed downstairs. With the weather turning colder in Yorkshire, there was a smattering of snow on the ground, but it was still warm enough that the grass and mud churned up underfoot, and their motley walking troupe managed to drag it in with them.

"I'm on mop duty this morning, Mr. Carson," William declared, heading over to the closet to fetch the bucket and mop. "It might help if we added a mat or two, though."

Carson blinked in shock. "Mr. Mason! Lady Mary had the marble for the foyer imported from Italy. We will not be covering it up with anything. We just need to be thorough in our cleaning."

"Fair enough, Mr. Carson," William replied, undeterred. "But with more and more guests coming to the house over the next while, we might be mopping several times a day, and Lady Mary may not like that."

Carson grunted and watched as William went about cleaning up the mess left behind by the servants' wet boots. The footman was right. They couldn't spare someone to constantly be sweeping the foyer during the day. This would require some thought.

* * *

Lady Mary Crawley came down the stairs and walked quickly through the foyer and along the hall. After breakfast, she had gone back upstairs to deal with Anna on what clothes to pack for their upcoming trip to London, as well as go over the rest of the week's menus with Mrs. Hart. Though she did keep a study on the main floor, she rather liked dealing with certain matters from her suite of upstairs rooms. It made her feel like a bit of a Queen, presiding over her realm from on high. It was all rather silly, of course, but one of the benefits of having her own home was that she could set the rules as she saw fit. In the beginning, when she and Matthew had moved here following their honeymoon, she tried to be loyal and steadfast to her family traditions at Downton Abbey, and what all of Society generally followed. She quickly learned that there were some matters that had to be changed and tweaked to suit the size of their home, the number of their staff and Matthew's own idiosyncrasies. Over a year in and approaching her second holiday season here, she felt comfortable and at ease. This was her home – hers and Matthew's – and his support and penchant for not being particularly fastidious about doing things properly allowed her to run the place however she liked.

Coming into the library, she stopped in her tracks and smiled, watching the familiar and heartwarming sight of her husband sitting in his favourite armchair by the fireplace, balancing their 10-month old son, George, on his lap. She knew how precious these moments were for the two men in her life, and though she often joined them, she didn't want to intrude this time.

"This day in history, my boy, all the way back in 1558, a very, very long time, ago, Queen Elizabeth was crowned and became ruler of England at the age of 25," Matthew explained. "Now she had many problems and challenges to deal with. England was at war with Spain and Parma, and there were always men who didn't think it was right for a woman to be leading the empire. But Queen Elizabeth persevered through it all, and today we think of her reign as a true Golden Age, not because of what she did in war, but because of advances we made in literature and theatre with writers such as Shakespeare and Spenser and others. You'll learn about all of them someday, and maybe we'll even get to see another Elizabeth on the throne in our time. Wouldn't that be something?"

Mary grinned at that.

George clapped his hands and kept trying to grab the book from his Papa's hands.

"That's rather progressive of you to say, darling," she stated, coming over to them. She leaned down and gave him a quick kiss, before smiling at her son. "What do you think, George? Is England ready for another Queen?"

"Qu…qu…" George gurgled.

She and Matthew laughed and kissed him thoroughly.

"I've received a call from Edith," she said, going over to the sideboard and pouring herself a cup of tea. "She and Alex are hosting us on Saturday evening for dinner, and they'll come to Painswick House on Thursday, the 25th. That leaves us free otherwise, except for the Rothschild party on Saturday, the 28th, of course."

"Right," Matthew said, frowning as he set his son down. The infant went waddling over to Nanny, who smiled, took his little hand and nodded to Mary and Matthew before taking him away to go play in the sitting room.

"I have to figure out what we're bringing to that party," he thought aloud.

"I've made arrangements for a donation to one of the family's charities," he replied, coming over and sitting down across from him, stirring her tea. "Gifts aren't traditionally a part of it, at least not for invited guests who aren't children."

He smiled at his wife in thanks. "Brilliant."

She smirked in reply and sipped her tea.

"What about Sybil? Have you managed to convince her to come with us?" he asked.

She sighed and shook her head. "No, she claims she's far too occupied with work. She'll be up for Winter Season, but she can't spare a week to come along, apparently."

"Work…is that her new name for Tom, then?" he joked.

She arched her eyebrow and frowned at him. "Darling, vulgarity is no replacement for humour."

He chuckled all the same.

"Besides, I believe that she's been spending more time with Bradley Johnson than Tom as of late," she added.

"Yes, a former soldier turned farm labourer. That'll be seen as an improvement compared to the chauffeur, surely," he noted.

She rolled her eyes. "I've done all I can, both where she and Edith are concerned. It's beyond me now. If Sybil wants to run off and elope with Tom Branson, Bradley Johnson, or God knows who, that's her business. She'll have to deal with Mama and Papa over it. I don't live there anymore, and I have my own husband to keep in line."

He chuckled and quirked his eyebrow. "And what does keeping me in line involve, precisely?"

"It doesn't involve what is going through your devious mind at the moment, you can be sure about that," she retorted, lowering her voice, even though they were alone. "I do believe that I did my wifely duties to you last night, and so you'll have to control yourself for the rest of the day."

"Control myself," he scoffed. "You make it sound as though I'm some monster who accosts you at every opportunity."

"You said it, not me," she replied easily.

"Well, I am going up to change then, to keep my distance," he declared, rising from his chair. "What time is our appointment with the land developers?"

"In about an hour," she replied. "We're also having dinner at Downton tonight, remember, so have Bates pack your suit for you. You can change after our afternoon tea."

"Yes, m'lady," he said, bowing his head.

She rolled her eyes but still accepted his kiss to her cheek as he went by.

 **Home of Sir Alexander and Lady Edith Lewis, Chelsea, London, England, November 21, 1920**

"Love, everything looks wonderful. Please try and relax," Sir Alexander Lewis said warmly to his wife. He kissed her cheek and hugged her, smiling at her nervous expression when he drew back.

"Thank you," Edith replied, nodding to him. "I just want it all to be perfect. You know how Mary is. She'll be eager to report back to Mama about what a horrible hostess I am."

"No, she won't," he assured her. "Both you and your sister don't give each other nearly enough credit. She'll be glad to see you, and she'll tell your mama that they were here for dinner and it all went wonderfully, because it will."

She smiled and took a deep breath, looking over the place settings, the candelabras and the floral arrangements once more. Since returning from her honeymoon, she'd visited with Mary at Eryholme and Downton, but this was the first time she would be hosting in her husband's home. Alex didn't care for all the ceremony and process of it. He and Matthew would be perfectly happy going down the pub for a pint, but with the holidays arriving, this was her first real test as a wife. There would be a dinner for all of Alex's law firm partners in December, and small Society gatherings during the Season. As much as she dreaded being put under her older sister's unwavering scrutiny, Mary was honest in her opinions, and if she could survive a night of hosting Lady Mary Crawley, she could handle anyone.

"How are you, love?" Alex asked, kissing the top of her head.

She blushed and looked up at him. He was a full head taller than her, which she found she liked quite a bit.

"I'm fine. Just nervous about Mary coming over, but I'm fine otherwise," she replied.

"Good," he said.

"Sir, my Lady, Lady Mary Crawley and Mr. Matthew Crawley have arrived," Willis, the butler announced.

"Thank you," Alex acknowledged. "We'll see them in the parlour."

Edith smiled shakily. Her husband took her hands in his.

"They're family," he reminded her.

"Exactly. They'll pull no punches," she noted.

He chuckled and put his arm around her, guiding her out to the hallway and down to the parlour.

* * *

"All right, let's hear it," Edith said resignedly, coming into the sitting room and sitting down on the settee. Willis came over and served her and Mary small glasses of sherry before he took his leave to attend to Alex and Matthew in the dining room.

"I thought the apple pie was a bit soft. The crust should be a bit crispier," Mary said airily, taking a sip of her drink.

Edith rolled her eyes. "Yes, and?"

Mary smirked. "And what? Darling, it was all very well done, honestly. Alex's home isn't as large as ours or Aunt Rosamund's, so considering those limitations, I thought the dinner was fabulous."

Edith blinked in shock.

"This is the part where you thank me for being so kind," Mary noted.

Edith smiled and shook her head. "Thank you. I've been a wreck all week with worry."

"Now, now, none of that," Mary chastised her gently. "One thing you're going to have to learn is that you'll never satisfy everyone. Even if you do a wonderful job, there will be those who find something wrong out of pure jealousy. Alex will love whatever you do. That's all that matters."

"I doubt anyone would ever be jealous of me," Edith scoffed.

"Oh, really? You've married a handsome and successful lawyer, a Knight of the realm no less, and you have a career of your own. I'd say you have plenty for others to be envious of," Mary noted.

Edith rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that Mama and her friends will be watching closely to see whether I can give him children."

"I'm sure you've already started on that, haven't you?" Mary teased.

Edith blushed and smiled. "What about you? Looking forward to another holiday season at Eryholme?"

"I am," Mary confirmed. "It's rather different than last year, not being about to have a baby at any moment. I like having smaller dinners with the neighbours and such. Mama can keep the larger gatherings to Downton. Matthew wants to do something special for the tenants in the Village this year also, so of course he's left that to me to organize."

"Something beyond what Papa already does?" Edith asked.

Mary nodded. "He wants to actually go into the Village, rather than host a party. With so many soldiers back now, he thinks we should go to them."

"Sybil will be pleased with that idea," Edith remarked.

Mary rolled her eyes. "She's beside herself. She and Matthew were already close enough as it was. He's an even bigger champion in her eyes now."

Edith laughed in understanding.

"You'll have to come back and see it all," Mary continued. "We're planning it for the Saturday, December 19th."

"I think we'll be back by then. I was planning on coming up on the 12th and staying through until New Year's and the Servants' Ball. Alex is a bit nervous being at Downton for so long, but I think he'll manage," Edith noted.

"He'll manage with your help," Mary pointed out.

Edith smirked and nodded.

 **Rothschild Manor, Belgravia, London, England, November 28, 1920**

No matter how many parties and functions they attended in London and Yorkshire, Mary was always hit with a frisson of excitement when she entered one of the many homes of Matthew's employers, the Rothschild family of bankers. Their homes in Buckinghamshire were gorgeous, and dwarfed even Downton Abbey. The London home was more practical, designed for the family to stay over when they were in the city on business, but it was still stately and opulent. This was the first time she and Matthew were bringing George out to an event, the family insisting he attend as there would be other children for him to play with.

Mary didn't know very much at all about the Jewish holiday of Hannukah. Matthew gave her a bit of a lesson on it, but she'd forgotten most of it already. She considered it an honour that they were invited to the home for the family party though. It reinforced the special bond between them, as well as acknowledging Matthew's role as special counsel and advisor to the bank. Their relationship had started off a bit rocky, and there were challenges ahead with the intense scrutiny that the Rothschilds garnered across Europe. However, Matthew was comfortable with continuing to support them, and their family had benefitted immensely from the association. The Rothschilds were one of the few aristocratic families that hadn't suffered much at all in the post-War era. Mary was hopeful that hers would be just as fortunate.

They came through the grand entrance hall and into the salon. The women went to one end of the room, the men to the other. George was escorted over to sit down with some of the other children, all of them fascinated with spinning wooden toys that some older kids had set out for them to play with. Mary smiled at how easily her son joined in, laughing and clapping his little hands. He had inherited his father's easiness around others, and she was grateful for that. She wanted him raised properly, given that he would be the Earl of Grantham one day, but she also wanted him to have a different childhood than hers, to not be kept away as much, hidden in a big house with just a nanny and governess to interact with.

She greeted Lady Anne and Lady Abigail, the two women of the Rothschild family that she was most familiar with. They spoke of the holidays, different plans they had for parties during Winter Season and so on. When the prayers and verse readings began, she fell silent and stood by respectfully. A slight smirk crossed her lips as she recalled her Papa's reaction when she told him that she and Matthew were going to a Hannukah party. The poor Earl really had no idea what was involved in such an event, but she assured him that the Rothschilds had no intention of converting them to Judaism, which satisfied him somewhat. She was glad that Matthew as far more modern in his approach and his attitude towards others. Having fought in a war alongside men of different backgrounds and religions, he wasn't nearly as intransigent as those of her father's generation. While that would serve him well as a lawyer and future Earl, she admired those qualities in him as a husband and father all the more.

* * *

"Chag Urim Sameach," Matthew said, shaking Julien Rothschild's hand. His boss laughed and nodded.

"Not bad, Matthew. Not bad at all. Your Hebrew is getting better than Marek's," Julien replied, nodding his head towards his taller cousin standing nearby.

"I doubt that. I only know what to say around the holidays," Matthew admitted. "It has been a lovely time, though. Thank you for having us."

"Of course. You're not just part of the bank, I hope you know. I consider you a part of my House now, and your family as well," Julien said easily.

Matthew nodded.

"Ah, here we are. The highlight of the evening," Julien said, nodding towards the centre of the room.

A round table was placed in the middle of the salon, and a large Menorah stood on top of it. The candelabrum was silver, and etched into the shape of an ornate tree, with eight branches holding candles, and a taller stem for the _shamash_ , the candle used to light all the others. As it was now the sixth night of the holiday, five of the eight candles were already lit.

Matthew watched on as an older gentleman came over to the table and smiled and nodded to the assembled guests. He recited several phrases in Hebrew, before reaching out and taking up the _shamash_ and lighting the sixth candle. The guests applauded and cheered, and the music began again and the festivities continued.

"I hope you've cautioned your wife about the food," Julien joked. "I cannot see Lady Mary necessarily enjoying latkes and sufganiyot."

Matthew chuckled and nodded. "She's been prepared, I assure you. It isn't as though we English have a reputation for haute cuisine, besides."

Julien laughed and patted Matthew on the back. "All right, well, let's put that to the test."

Mary glanced to her left and right, watching as Lady Anne and Lady Abigail ate their latkes with ease. They cut them with their forks, dipped them in applesauce or sour cream, and popped the fried bits into their mouths like candy. Matthew had tried to prepare her for this, and it wasn't as if she had anything against potatoes, or even applesauce or sour cream, but to have them all sort of mixed together was rather shocking.

She cut a rather tiny piece off, and swirled it in enough applesauce to drown it, before taking a brave bite and swallowing as quickly as possible. There was very little potato to taste, in truth, and she took a sip of wine to chase it, which didn't really help given that even though Rothschild family wines were world famous, even they could not make kosher wine taste anything at all like the real thing.

"How are you finding the latkes?" Lady Anne asked, sharing a knowing glance with Lady Abigail.

"They're fine," Mary replied easily. "We used to have potato pancakes as children."

That wasn't entirely a lie. The cook would make them for her and her sisters. She just refused to touch them, was all.

"Well, hopefully the donuts will be more to your taste," Lady Abigail said. "They're quite good, and this year's batch has a lovely cherry filling."

Mary smiled tightly and nodded, reaching again for the wine. She hated cherries.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, November 28, 1920**

Matthew removed his robe and tossed it on the chair. Crawling into bed, he kissed Mary on the cheek and settled under the covers.

"George is asleep?" she asked, turning the page of her book.

"He is. He was quite excited from all the donuts," he said, laughing at how his son was bouncing up and down in his crib all through their bedtime story.

"Ah yes, the cherry-flavoured treats," she said drily.

He chuckled. "I'm sorry, darling. I had no idea."

"I'll choose to believe you," she remarked. "Anyway, it wasn't so bad. I'm glad that they invited us and I'm glad that we went."

"But cherries will not be on our holiday menu anytime soon," he finished.

"Most certainly not," she confirmed.

He chuckled and reached for the book on his nightstand. "All right, then. Where were we?"

She put her book away and came over to snuggle against his shoulder. "Chapter six, was it?"

"Chapter six, indeed. Ah, here it is – Marilla Makes Up Her Mind," he recited, turning to the proper page.

She smiled and watched as he read to her, a familiar warmth filling her as the soothing tone of his voice helped lull her to sleep.

 **Eryholme, Yorkshire, England, December 2, 1920**

"What about a rug of some sort?" Carson asked, frowning as William went about rubbing a towel over the recently mopped foyer floor. The dirt and mud had been cleared away, but the floor remained wet and a bit streaked, which required it be dried immediately.

"I don't think that a rug would look too good after a while, Mr. Carson," the footman replied. "We'd be spending more time cleaning the rug than we would mopping and drying. We could try a rubber mat, maybe?"

Carson blinked in shock. "Rubber? Heavens, no! Absolutely not!"

"Well, Mr. Crawley already wears rubber Wellies, though. We had them in the War, you see," William explained.

"Mr. Mason, this is the home of Lady Mary, the home of the future Earl of Grantham, and his heir. We will not be putting rubber mats in the foyer as though this were some farmhouse! All due respect to farmhouses, of course," Carson said crisply.

"Yes, Mr. Carson," William replied, continuing on with the towels.

 **Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, December 19, 1920**

Sybil grinned as she walked briskly past all the market stalls and over to the skating rink. The return of the Downton Village Christmas Market was a welcome occasion, and the tenants had been coming out in droves all week since it opened. There were visitors from York and Ripon who made the trek over to see it as well. Candles and lanterns were placed all over the square to give it a bit of a festive glow, and there were sweet smells from the various food vendors filling the air. Offerings of Pimm's and other drinks helped lift everyone's spirits as well, but most of all it seemed people just liked being out at night with their friends and family. It was another signal that the war was over, and life was returning back to normal.

When Matthew had first raised the idea at dinner months ago, Sybil had leapt to support him. She knew that her parents would want to just restore the old market in exactly the same staid and boring fashion, but if she could get Matthew to take up the cause, she could turn it into something truly fun, and the soldiers under her care at the community centre would benefit immensely. Her job mainly consisted of helping them rehabilitate old injuries and get them back on their feet again, but for those who had healed, the bigger challenge was trying to fit back into a society that had essentially forgotten them for years. Finding work was a challenge, but even simple things like shopping and maintaining conversation were difficult. These boys had gone off to battle and returned as men, having never really developed the types of skills to help them do anything more than fire a weapon or charge a hill.

"Lady Sybil," a voice called.

She smirked and bowed her head to the handsome man waiting for her by the rink, a pair of ice skates in each hand.

"Sorry, Sybil," Bradley Johnson corrected himself, smiling at her pointed glare. He knew that she hated being addressed by her title, which was probably why he kept doing it.

"Apology accepted," she replied, taking the pair of ice skates from him and sitting down to put them on. "Now, as I said before, I don't want you to feel too discouraged. Skating isn't something that comes naturally to people, so you may feel quite awkward for a while. That's normal."

"I got it," Bradley said, sitting down and putting on his own skates.

"Right, now, the first thing we should do is just get you used to standing on your skates," she stated, getting up and gliding a bit on to the ice. "Take my hands and just come this way."

"All right, I'll just be right…whoa!" Bradley exclaimed, slipping on the ice and taking off past her.

"Bradley! Oh God!" Sybil shouted, skating after him as he slid down the ice, flapping his arms and flailing his legs. It looked like he was trying to run on the spot, but it only served to push him further and further down the rink.

Sybil caught up to him and tried to reach out to stop his momentum, but he was quite taller than she was, and all she really would end up doing was hanging on. The end of the rink quickly approached, as did what would surely be a rather painful end to his first skating attempt, she thought.

"Brace yourself," she said worriedly.

He turned and looked at her in a panic. Just when he was about to careen over the edge of the rink, he easily crossed over and skated in the other direction, stunning her for a moment before she turned and closed the distance to him.

"What? What are you doing?" she asked in shock.

"Skating," he answered confidently, maintaining a respectful distance. "That's why we're here, ain't it?"

Her mouth opened in surprise at his smirking face.

"Bradley Johnson!" she scolded him, though they kept skating. "You already know how to skate?"

He laughed. "My Dad taught me when I was a young lad. We had a pond on the farm and I'd be out there for hours."

"But you never told me that!" she protested.

"You never asked," he retorted.

She glared at him for a second, then shook her head and laughed.

He wanted to reach for her hands, but didn't. Though there were plenty of couples skating hand-in-hand, they weren't a couple yet, to say nothing for the fact that holding hands with one of the Earl of Grantham's daughters wasn't exactly something that went easily unnoticed.

"Anything else you want to teach me about skating, Sybil?" he asked.

"I'll teach you to get your arse kicked in a race," she declared, smiling at him before she took off.

He shook his head in amusement before racing after her.

* * *

"She really can't help herself, can she?" Matthew asked, smiling at his wife.

Mary rolled her eyes. "She's just out skating with a friend, is all."

He looked at her pointedly.

"Oh, what do you want me to do about it?" she objected. "She's at least being fair about dividing her time. She and Tom went skating the other day."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"She's finding herself, trying to see what she wants both in terms of a career and a husband. I don't think it's so scandalous that she evaluates the available candidates in the same manner that men weigh their options," she continued.

"You'll hear no protest from me," he answered lightly. "But when word reaches your Mama…"

"Darling, please don't remind me," she groaned. "I expect I will have a very eventful tea with Granny and Mama tomorrow. Thank God Edith will be there as well so the blame won't be entirely placed at my feet."

"Give them that speech of yours about how young ladies should be allowed to date as much as men and see how far it gets you," he joked.

She glared at him. "Keep it up, go on," she warned.

He laughed and squeezed her hand.

They walked along, visiting with the different vendors and making pleasant conversation. They were no longer simply known as 'Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley' anymore. The villagers saw them as the future Earl and Countess of Grantham, and they were taking on more responsibility as a result. Papa had officially opened the Christmas Market earlier in the week, but it was mainly Mary and her sisters who had come out each day to see everyone. Edith and Alex were of particular interest, their wedding having been the last major event in the village just a few months past, but Mary still noted the looks that she and Matthew received, how everyone seemed to be happy to greet them. It was a duty that she did not take lightly.

"Cup of Pimm's, my darling?" he suggested.

"Are you trying to get your wife drunk, Mr. Crawley?" she teased.

"Not at all. It's just chilly out and I want you to be warm, is all," he replied innocently.

"Mmm hmm," she said, unconvinced. "I'll share yours, thank you."

"That's convenient. I'm getting a double," he stated casually.

She smirked and shook her head as they reached the drinks booth and greeted the vendor.

 **Eryholme, Yorkshire, England, December 19, 1920**

Carson looked over the foyer with a cautious eye. He even went so far as to bend down and run his hand over the marble to test if it was dry.

"There. That ought to last us through the night, at least," he stated seriously.

William breathed a sigh of relief. Being on mop and towel duty was beginning to hurt his back.

They both stared in disbelief as the door opened suddenly and Lady Mary, Mr. Crawley, Lady Edith and Sir Alex all came traipsing in, dragging snow, mud and dirt along with them.

"Ah, Carson!" Matthew said jovially. "We decided to come back here rather than stay at Downton. Could you please inform Mrs. Hart that Lady Edith will take a tray in her room tomorrow for breakfast, while Sir Alex will join us on our walk?"

"Yes, sir. Very good, sir," Carson recovered, nodding his head.

"Dear Carson, always so steadfast in the face of my husband's ever changing whims," Mary noted, smiling at her butler.

"Excuse me? It was you who decided to come back here!" Matthew growled, looking at her pointedly as he removed his Wellies.

"Now, now, darling, be nice. We have guests," she teased. Leaning on him for support, she removed her own boots and left them along with Edith's and Sir Alex's in the foyer. The four of them headed upstairs, laughing and chatting away.

"I'll get started on these, Mr. Carson," William mumbled, picking up Matthew's boots and giving them a shake.

Carson frowned as he saw mud and dirt fly all over the floor that seconds ago had been spotless.

 **Eryholme, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 1921**

Matthew smiled, finishing up with his newspaper and setting it aside. Across the parlour, George was playing with a load of blocks, stacking them and toppling them over as Nanny helped and applauded him. The little boy was growing by leaps and bounds, it seemed, and Matthew could scarcely believe that his birthday was coming up so soon. The past year had been so unpredictable, and yet so fulfilling as well. For the first time, it felt as though things were moving forward, both in terms of managing the Estate for Robert and the family, and his own home. The war was over and the cost was dear, but Matthew was more confident than ever that his family would be able to ride out the coming storms, and succeed where others had failed. Money wasn't a huge concern for him. The pursuit of wealth was never one of his ambitions. However, he wanted to make sure his son and the future generation of Crawleys had the same opportunities that he and Mary did, and though it would require immense work, he believed they were headed in the right direction.

The holiday season had been a whirlwind. Edith and Alex had helped them preside over their second Christmas at Eryholme. There was the usual presents for the servants and a small reception for everyone. Carson was his usual ornery self at the staff socializing with the family, but even he was in a good mood.

They had all headed off to Downton Abbey for the official Christmas festivities – more gifts, this time from Cora and Violet, an afternoon reception for the tenants and store owners, including carol singing and refreshments, and finally Midnight Mass at the Village Church. Robert, as usual, had Matthew lead off the carols with a solo, but he managed to guilt Mary into making it a duet. Their rendition of _O Holy Night_ was quite spectacular, he had to admit, mainly for her voice than his. As much as she tried to play it off, Mary loved to sing, and did so more and more now that they had their own home.

New Year's Eve was the usual quiet affair. They toasted with Mother and Mary's family at Downton and didn't get back to Eryholme until later. A light snow had come overnight, though the drive had been easy and uneventful. The New Year's Shoot was later today, everyone looking forward to the tradition, abandoned during the war but now returned. Matthew rather hated shooting for sport, but even he was glad for it. With the sunny weather, he and Mary could take a walk together.

"Ready, darling?" she called, coming into the parlour.

"Ready," he replied, turning around to look at her. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open in shock.

"Darling?" she asked, smiling at his reaction. "Ready to go?"

"What…" he sputtered, taking in her outfit. She had her usual brown plaid coat and matching hat, but rather than her usual brown boots and long grey skirt, she was wearing a new set of black boots that went up to her knees. He could tell they were that tall because her skirt was decidedly shorter than normal, stopping just past her knees. There was still no chance of seeing her stockings, assuming she was wearing any, but it was quite a departure from what he was used to her wearing on a day out with her family.

"What are you wearing?" he struggled.

"Ah, do you like them? They're the latest fashion. Russian boots, they're called. Much higher than what I'm used to, but they feel wonderful," she described enthusiastically, twirling around so he could see better from all angles.

"Yes, they're lovely, but what about…" he stammered. "What about your…erm…skirt?"

"The latest style. It's so much more comfortable compared to the old ones," she said lightly, taking up a handful of the wool fabric and stretching it out slightly.

"Yes, but darling, don't you think it's a bit…erm…short?" he managed. Mary hated being criticized on her wardrobe, and he seldom said anything, but this was going to make it very difficult for him to concentrate on shooting, to say nothing for the fact that it might give Robert a heart attack.

"It's shorter, yes. That's the point," she replied.

"Uh…right…well, your Papa might have something to say about it," he suggested.

"Oh come now, Matthew, I'm a grown woman, married and a mother. I think that I can be trusted to choose a proper outfit for a Shoot," she chastised him. "Besides, I don't depend on Papa's opinion for my choices."

"Yes, of course you don't," he agreed, waving his hand as she instructed Nanny to get George ready for the trip to Downton. "I don't think that will stop him from objecting, though."

"I'm confident that Papa will be quite silent about it, actually," she declared, smirking as they headed into the foyer.

"And why is that?" he asked.

"Because I won't be the only one wearing them," she explained. "Mama, Edith, Sybil, Aunt Rosamund and some of the other ladies attending will all be dressed similarly as well."

"Good God," he muttered. "Poor Robert."

She smiled knowingly at him and accepted her coat from Anna.

"We'll expect you back for dinner, sir?" Bates asked, handing Matthew his coat and hat.

"We'll be here. We might even be sent back earlier for Lady Mary to change," Matthew mumbled.

Anna smirked knowingly at her mistress, who said nothing in reply.

"Ah, Carson," Mary said, smiling as the butler came into the foyer. "Is Mr. Crawley's car ready, then?"

"Yes, my Lady. William went over it this morning. It was rather dirty, but he declares it working fine," Carson advised.

"Excellent. So Mr. Crawley can't blame the machinery should we be delayed for any reason," Mary joked glancing over at her husband.

Matthew frowned wryly back at her.

"My Lady, the portrait has arrived. It's now hanging in the sitting room. I've had it covered and you can view it upon your return," Carson continued.

"Ah! Splendid! I can't wait," Mary exclaimed happily.

Matthew rolled his eyes. With George's upcoming birthday, Mary insisted that they sit for portraits as a family. The photographer had not taken long at all, though George had fussed a bit too much during the session, but Mary also wanted a painting done of the three of them. Thankfully the artist was able to work from the photographs so they didn't need to try and have George sit still for hours.

"We'll all take a look this evening then," Mary stated. "Oh, and Carson, I keep forgetting to ask you…"

"Yes, my Lady?" the butler replied crisply.

"We seem to be bringing in quite a bit of snow and mud into the foyer. Perhaps some rubber mats might help?" Mary suggested.

Carson didn't even bat an eye. "Yes, my Lady. I could not agree more."

From across the foyer, William had to cover his mouth and cough quietly to contain himself.

Nanny and George came over, the young boy dressed in a miniature version of his father's hunting outfit. They all smiled and cooed at him before Mary took his little hand and escorted him outside to the waiting motor.

"Good day, everyone," Matthew said, nodding to the staff and following after his family.

"Good day, sir," the servants replied. Another thing that Carson had to get used to was the lack of formalities. There were no lineups at the door, no rank and file salutes or greetings whenever Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary went out, and no processions to welcome them home. This morning, he was glad for it.

"Erm, Mr. Mason, see about finding some rubber mats for the foyer, won't you?" Carson commanded.

"Yes, Mr. Carson. Right away," William replied.

The butler glanced around at Anna, Bates, Nanny and William, allowing a slight smirk to cross his lips before he headed off. He didn't even turn around and protest when he heard them all laugh out loud upon his leaving the room.

 **fin**


End file.
